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A Baroness’ Whip Lust by J.A. Schenley

The waves pitched a young beauty on the deck of a sailing ship to America. Victorian England had inflamed her with two visions. One was of a future in America where she would have few limits. The other was an eyewitness memory of a young woman tied to a public whipping post for a ferocious bare-back lashing. She could not escape either vision as the three-masted ship glided toward America.

Along the way, her latent lesbian hungers would be awakened and teased. Attention paid to her would also enrage a pretty young Baroness, spiteful in her jealousy. It was a race across the Atlantic between a new world with new opportunities and a young jealous Baroness who plotted Emma's severe punishment. Nobles and commoners on the three-masted ship all would be part of this dark drama.

Emma had entered a world of new sensuality, yet she had much to fear from the young Baroness. There would be lies told and injustice inflicted. Would beautiful Emma's life just begin at age twenty, or, would it end? Here is a story of lesbian lust and love-making, cruelty and suffering.

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Excerpt

At the Noon hour, a tall, skinny and homely woman of about 30 announced the victim's name, her offense and her sentence. I remember that her first name was Nell. She would receive twenty lashes on her bare back from a cruel braided cat-o-nine tails. I sat immobilized by the idea of what was to come. The mere name, cat-o-nine tails, frightened me.
My blood began to stir because I had never seen a real whipping. My mind darted between a vision of the victim's back laced by the whip, and wondering what it would be like to be in her place!
A moment later, a man in a hangman's mask led the young woman up the stairs to the platform. Her bodice had been lowered to her waist in calculated preparation for the whipping. This afforded a vivid view of her pale, smooth back and firm breasts.
I remember staring at her small breasts, capped as they were by pretty pink nipples. With her head lowered and her cute breasts bouncing, she mounted the same thirteen steps she would climb for a hanging. The crowd began cheering loudly..Her head and shoulders bobbed up and down from weeping.
I caught myself cheering as well, anticipating the spectacle to come,. Then I felt so ashamed of myself! This young woman was going to suffer and here I was, with all the others, deriving some dark satisfaction from it.
It took just moments for her slender wrists to be clamped in those iron cuffs. I strained to hear the sounds of the clanking iron cuffs and the victim's sobbing, but I could not. The sounds of the crowd grew louder as it was obvious that this whipping would begin in but a moment.
There was a single nod from the long nosed woman and the man in the mask returned her nod. The masked brute drew-back the fearsome whip and then, the punishment started!
At least twenty yards away from the platform, I had no trouble hearing the crack of the lash on her bare back! “ONE!”, the woman on the platform called-out. The crowd of men and women cheered loudly as my mouth went totally dry.
The poor young woman tugged at the iron rings in a futile effort to get loose. The crowd cheered louder as the lashing continued and the victim screamed, “NO MORE, PLEASE!!!” Her breasts bounced with each lash and the futile tugs she made at the iron cuffs and chains.
“FOUR! FIVE! SIX!”, counted the long-nosed, skinny woman in charge.
“SEVEN!”, she called-out. The whipping was not even halfway through and Nell was begging for mercy, a mercy that all knew would not be given. It was evident to that Nell's weepy pleadings would do her no good at all. More likely, they served as fuel for more suffering.
Again and again, the loud THWIKKKKK from the whip landed on her bare back, followed by her blubbering and weeping and pleading. With each lash of the cat-o-nine tails, the homely woman would announce the number of lashes with total dispassion. As the whip punished the poor girl, she would tug at the iron cuffs harder..
The braided whip shoved Nell's chest against the harsh square wooden whipping post each time that it landed on her bare back. “HAVE MERCY ON ME!”, she said several times during this terrible punishment. She would pull at the iron wrist-cuffs at each landing of the whip. Her arms jiggled as she used her muscles to try to escape.
I stared at this cruel spectacle! The red stripes on Nell's lovely back grew with each muscular administration of the whip! My mind was emptied of any rational thought. I hated myself for wanting to see the conclusion of this cruel punishment, but I DID WANT IT!
“Continue this whipping”, I spoke to myself.
CRAAAKKKK!! “SIXTEEN!”, called-out the matron. The victim's knees were now wobbly, and she said in loud scream, “NO MORE!” The roar of the crowd prevented me from hearing the sounds of Nell's reaction to the final four lashes. The only sounds I could hear made a cruel concerto of the crack of the whip and the cheering crowd.

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